Monday WRites 21

image from google dot com


You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #21, whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites



AWAKENING
In the satiety of sleep
Morning light touches my skin
So lightly
I could hear a feather drop
Miles away of birds twittering
So noisily
On returning to self my temple
Of my being where i am a while
So obviously
There are many distractions
Of heat and cold void and form
So dreamily
I drift back into this realm
Where thankfulness responds
© gillena cox 2015



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Will Link this to Tuesday Platform

96

image from google dot com


POWER
Power let's it be, so
substance and goodness absorb the void;
challenges the chaos,
to sparkle in phases both day and night
wrath of havoc to destroy -
raining flood waters, yet two by two to recreate;
sigh of sin:
a son, a stock, a scion;
sent to express redeeming love;
of power, the mightiest, is love.
© gillena cox 2015


Written in response to the prompt
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Power

Monday WRites 20

image from google dot com


You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #20, whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




ODE TO A BROWN PAPER BAG
there it lies, folded at the creases,
crisp, neat lines lay on the kitchen counter;
shall i unfold it, expand it, open it
to sounds of morning; filling it with
a din of twitterings,
i mean to cram all those birdsongs into
a brown paperbag; so vast this ideal
of a dawning sky, where does one begin
to draw rainbows? where does the dark
of night hang his obsidian coat?
it peters out, the earliest din;
so the opened brown paper bag
now stands on the kitchen counter
seemingly empty
© gillena cox 2015






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<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Will Link this to Tuesday Platform

94

Today's post features something old and something
new all concerns of Night; starting with a revisit of
2012 fireworks haiga at Lunch Break



NIGHT
its an August night, which ends the celebration
of a day of note, to self governing feats;
with the colours of the rainbow, spitting fire
across the the dragon lakes, of shadowed clouds,
its spectacle: red, orange, blue, iridescent;
stars, far and wide, in between the loud
booms, of remembered warfare, of who owns me
now? who owned me then? therefore who owns what?
a people, a nation, twin islands under a moon;
yet wisdom of birds rest their chirps in roost,
and night squarkers are hidden somewhere,
where no one hears a feather rustle;
but tree shadows observe the pointing
fingers, the breath of awe, of innocence,
of children in achievement, and continuance
this response termed identity.
© gillena cox 2015


Written in response to the prompt today
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Night

Monday WRites 19

Rain animation, and Rain Dancers image,
from google dot com

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #19, whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




RAIN
A cycle of nurture a circle of nature
From cloud to ocean such is this creature
Which morphs the silence to a tin roof jam
Lashing with might on the window jamb
Wakes one at will in the middle of the night
Vanishing the moon to a misty sight
Dancers will swerve in the heat of a drought
You’ll answer only if and when it’s your sport
© gillena cox 2015






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<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Will Link this to Tuesday Platform

Monday WRites 18

image from google dot com

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #18, my poem today is a FOLD read more about this form here ; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




CLOSING IN
the walls are closing in, closing in, closing in
if love is a given, an age old given, then why, oh why
this noise increasing, to a din, a din, a din
i fear; with a holy fear, a holy fear, holy fear
while the walls, keep closing in, closing in, closing in
wisdom threads on quiet wearied feet, beautiful feet,
and i know, yes i know, only truth in this war will win,
a battle waged, eons, eons ago; the prize - of souls
for this be comforted, he died, for redeeming of sin
so i wait in faith, for that grace, to completely unfold
yet, still, the walls are closing in, closing in, closing in
© gillena cox 2015





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<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Will Link this to Tuesday Platform

91

image from google dot com


DRAGON FLIGHT
to spit you out
like a worm
wriggling free in the earth-filled mire

black enough is
the unconscious cloud hovering
within the frame of night

where ashes spill from the hand
of man there is no one to hear
the breath of dragons cry

only fantasy can leap that far
falling to earth as if
on tiptoes of fire
© gillena cox


written for the challenge
Words Count With Mama Zen

to choose some word from the given list of 23 "ultraconserved words" that have remained relatively unchanged since the Ice Age; recently identified by a British researchers study; and write a poem of 60 words or less.